


tangle root heart

by cute_nerds



Category: VIXX
Genre: And a dash of beauty & the beast, M/M, Magic, Supernatural Elements, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 22:17:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14530407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cute_nerds/pseuds/cute_nerds
Summary: If you need a miracle, and you are strong of heart and limb, you can make the journey to the witch of the wood. If you can find him, he may grant you what you seek - for a price. There isalwaysa price when magic is involved.Wonshik needs a miracle. He doesn't care about the cost.





	tangle root heart

**i.**

In some of the oldest parts of the village, one could still hear tales about the witch at the heart of the forest.

It was whispered that his heart was old and tangled as a tree root, but that he himself stayed forever young. It was whispered that he had powerful, beautiful, terrible magic that kept the forest growing in all directions. Sometimes it was whispered, tentatively, that this magic kept the village safe from bandits and their crops healthy as long as the forest was left to grow. Those who tried to take more than they needed from the forest suffered terrible fates, they said, but if the village nurtured the forest, the forest would do the same for them.

The elders of the village still believed this, and every spring a quiet ceremony was performed to honour the witch of the wood: not quite a celebration, but a quiet, binding recognition that appeared as sigils on the sides of houses and offerings of water and seed to some of the safer glens within the trees.

It was also whispered, even more quietly, that the witch could grant wishes. For a price, of course - magic always has a cost. Of course, whenever this whisper could be heard, it was always followed by admonishment: work hard and life will treat you well. Don’t go into the forest. Magic of that kind is evil and costly and should not be touched.

But the dreamers and the desperate always remembered the whisper and not the warning, and some of their number had entered the forest never to be seen again.

 

 

 

**ii.**

Every time that Wonshik’s mother came out of the sickroom, there were new worry lines marring what was usually a calm, cheerful expression. Today was no different: there was a furrow between her brows, and her knuckles were white on the door handle even as she pulled it ever-so-gently shut.

There was no way around it – his sister was dying. They had nursed her for days after her fall from the roof, where she’d been helping to put a new thatch on against the cold. But a blow to the head like the one she’d taken was not easily remedied, and not even the village healer had enough skill to mend it.

That left only one option, in Wonshik’s opinion. His mother wouldn’t hear of it – didn’t want to trade one child’s life for the other – but he knew they had no other choice. They needed a miracle, and there was only one place nearby where they would find one.

He rose from his chair and crossed the room to his mother, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I will go and get help,” he told her, and she bowed her head in recognition of his words. The slump of her shoulders was defeated, but Wonshik was determined to go.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, and wrapped her in an embrace. “I’ll come back.”

 

 

 

**iii.**

In spite of the dangers of the forest, it was beautiful indeed. Wonshik shifted the pack hanging off of his shoulders and looked around the glen – the furthest he’d ever been inside the wood. The canopy above still let light through, dappling the forest floor in squares of green, brown and gold. Despite the tranquility of the scene, it was so _still_ that Wonshik knew this place marked the border between his territory and that of the witch.

There was no turning back. He lifted his foot and stepped across that invisible line, heading into the trees. The forest whispered around him, and then it swallowed him whole.

 

 

 

**iv.**

Hours later, Wonshik had lost most of his sense of direction, though he thought he’d been moving in (more or less) a straight line. The trees were still familiar, but they grew so far overhead that Wonshik couldn’t see the details in the leaves, only a glowing green sky where the blue should be.

He’d been following a rough trail for the last hour or so, placing each step carefully. Nobody knew what other creatures lived this deep in the heartwood, and he wasn’t about to risk angering some kind of moss sprite by stepping on it wrong. Where he couldn’t avoid moving or stepping on greenery, he apologized gently to whatever spirits were nearby to hear.

Eventually, the greenery began to twist slightly, away from the natural forms that Wonshik was used to. It wasn’t that the shape of the trees was _un_ natural, because they still looked like they belonged there – it was just that they had grown in a different way, reminiscent of architecture by human hands and yet distinctly alien. Wonshik paused for a moment by a particularly unusual tree, growing in the shape of a spiral, and lifted his hand hesitantly before murmuring a ‘pardon me’ and placing his hand on the trunk.

Something shifted. At first Wonshik wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but then he let out a startled yell as one of the spiral branches near him started to unfurl. His hand was still pressed to the bark, and he tugged at it, trying unsuccessfully to get free.

It appeared that the tree wasn’t going to do him any harm – in fact, it seemed to be trying to tell him something. As Wonshik watched, hand still stuck in place, the branch unfurled to point at another tree. When it had stopped moving, the tree it was pointing at also started to move, and Wonshik realized that they were showing him the way.

“Thank you,” he said formally, and made a little bow to the tree – an apple tree, unusually sized. The leaves on the tree rustled gently, and then Wonshik discovered he could lift his hand.

There was nothing for it but to follow the path, and so he continued on his way, hoping that the tree could understand who he was here to see.

 

 

 

**v.**

(Of course it could. It wasn’t just any tree).

 

 

 

**vi.**

The trees continued to shift around Wonshik, who went from trunk to trunk, thanking each tree on his way. After all, it never hurt to be polite, and the trees were (he hoped) doing him a favour and taking him to the witch. They could also be taking him somewhere less pleasant, he supposed, but he had no other guide and no other choice but to trust the branches. He hadn’t heard anything else moving in the forest, though it was possible that he’d scared it away (doubtful. Wonshik did not think he was very scary).

The trail ended in a hollow in the earth which held a hurricane of roots, rather as though this place was a drain and all the trees were the water spiralling down. Wonshik could see light flickering inside the twister, gold and red and green, and he took a shuddering breath against the sudden attack of nerves that gripped him.

He thanked the final pointing tree and stepped into the hollow, navigating carefully around the tangled roots. If this was the witch’s tangleroot house, then surely there was a door, or at least somewhere appropriate to knock. He circled about halfway around when he found it – an arched root like a door, with a curtain of blossoms hanging across the entrance. They were too lovely to disturb, and so Wonshik hesitated and then knocked gently on the arch, calling a soft: “Hello?”

It had been quiet before, but Wonshik hadn’t realized that there was a current underneath that silence until it stopped. The hollow felt cold, suddenly, and hair rose on the back of his neck as he finally grasped the idea that visiting a witch might not have been the best of plans. “Sorry,” he whispered, to both the root and the witch (whoever was listening), “Didn’t mean to disturb.”

Something shifted behind the curtain of blossoms, and then the current was replaced, making the tangleroot seem a little less alien. The blossoms swayed, and then were parted by an elegant, beringed hand. It was joined by another hand, and then the witch emerged through the blossoms and Wonshik looked upon him for the first time.

His breath caught in his throat. The witch was beautiful, reminding Wonshik of one of the trees around them: elegant, tall, with streaks of deep leaf green scattered throughout his black hair. It was his eyes that were the most arresting, however, and they considered Wonshik from head to toe.

“Welcome to the heart of the forest,” said the witch, voice inviting and melodic and somehow sad. “Kim Wonshik.”

 

 

 

**vii.**

The witch extended both hands to Wonshik, palms up, and crooked his fingers invitingly. Wonshik stared at his hands for a moment, taking in the details – a ridged scar across one palm, several silvery rings, nails painted black – and then lifted his own hands to hesitantly place them in the witch’s grip.

“Good,” said the witch, and offered Wonshik a gentle smile, though his eyes behind it were still sad. “Thank you for taking care with the trees. Most travellers are not nearly so considerate.”

“My mother raised me to be polite to every living thing,” Wonshik replied hesitantly, and the witch’s smile widened. “I suppose that goes double in the forest of a witch.”

“ _Very_ good,” the witch hummed, and let go. Wonshik’s hands felt strange when he lifted them away from his grasp, as though there were vines curling through his palms. “Come in, then. Don’t worry about the blossoms – they’re tougher than they look.”

The witch turned his back and moved to go into the tangleroot, only to be stopped by Wonshik blurting out: “Is it safe?”

He appeared to consider this. “No,” he said finally, turning to pin Wonshik with another searching gaze. “But you didn’t expect to be, did you?” Wonshik pursed his lips, and the witch amended: “You aren’t in any immediate danger, but life happens with… greater intensity around magic. Watch your step.”

With that murky clarification, he vanished back behind the blossoms, and Wonshik had no choice but to take a breath and follow. The flowers trailed over his face and hair like searching fingers as he stepped into the tangled root heart.

 

 

 

**viii.**

It was the obvious that the witch knew he was here for a reason – he may have even known why Wonshik had come, and that wouldn’t surprise him one bit. However, he said nothing about the matter, as though it were every day that he received visitors in the heart of the forest. He made himself out to be an excellent host, and told Wonshik to sit while he prepared some tea.

While the witch was bustling around his home, Wonshik examined the place, taking it all in. The fact that they were nestled in a sanctuary of roots was obvious, but there were surprisingly modern pieces to the décor: cushions in deep-water colours, an array of ceramics and glassware that could have come from any of the nearby villages, and an iron ring over an oddly coloured fire, presumably for cooking. Between this sprinkling of what Wonshik perceived as ‘ordinary’ and the magic that so obviously permeated the space (the floating globes of light, the potted plants that moved without any wind, and of course the witch himself), the structure still made itself seem like a home, and Wonshik relaxed in spite of himself.

“Not what you expected?” asked the witch, and Wonshik startled, focusing on the man standing in front of him. He extended a mug to Wonshik, and he accepted it with murmured thanks. “I keep the skulls of my enemies in storage. They don’t match the décor.”

Wonshik responded with a half-smile, not entirely sure the witch was joking. He eyed the tea warily, then took a breath of the steam, not wanting to be impolite but also uncertain as to whether it was going to turn him into a newt.

It smelled sweet and earthy, and Wonshik took another breath before he looked up and met the witch’s knowing gaze. He flushed, embarrassed, and the witch said easily, “It’s a little late for you to back out now, isn’t it?”

He supposed that was true. The witch shrugged his shoulders in a graceful movement before taking a sip of his own tea. “But if it makes you more comfortable, perhaps you should tell me why you came first.”

Wonshik cradled the mug in his hands, enjoying the warmth on his palms. “Can I ask your name?” he tried, as the witch sipped his tea with an inscrutable expression. “If we’re going to do business, it seems that I should know it.”

“Hmmm. My name is Hakyeon,” said the witch, leaning back in his chair with a speculative expression. “What business do you have with the forest witch? Haven’t you heard enough stories that warn you away from my tangleroot?”

His tone carried a mixture of messages that Wonshik couldn’t quite tell apart, as indiscernible as the fragrance of the cooling tea in his hands. He lifted the mug to his lips, blew gently on the liquid and took a sip, letting the rich mixture trickle down his throat. When his mouth was empty, he started to speak.

He told Hakyeon about his sister, and how much he and his mother loved her, and how she had told him tales of the witch in the wood and taught him how to respect the forest. When he felt his throat closing with tears at the thought of losing his family, he took a swallow of tea, and it helped to ease his tale. When he had finished speaking, he was also finished his tea, and Hakyeon was leaning back in his chair with his fingers steepled thoughtfully.

“So you want me to save your sister,” he said, and his tone was thoughtful but not unkind. “A worthy wish, I am certain.” Hakyeon turned his head to look at a globe of life as it floated by, his expression miles away. “However, wishes do not get granted without a price.”

The price. Wonshik had known this was coming, but he couldn’t help the sudden attack of nerves that gripped him as he considered what the price might be. He took a deep breath, and then another, as Hakyeon was still watching the colourful globes of light, deep in thought.

“I know that magic costs something,” Wonshik replied eventually, his voice steadier than he expected. “I am … prepared.”

Hakyeon turned his head back to Wonshik and considered him, then offered him a razor-thin smile. “Are you, indeed?”

 

 

 

**ix.**

Hakyeon stood swiftly and plucked Wonshik’s empty mug from his grasp, spinning it to face one of the lights as it floated by. The light stopped, right where Hakyeon must have wanted it to, and the witch peered into Wonshik’s tea leaves with an inscrutable expression.

“So that’s how it is,” he remarked at length, and lowered the mug. “Very well, Wonshik. I will grant your request.”

Wonshik jumped to his feet with a jubilant expression, carried away with the force of his relief, only to be forestalled by Hakyeon’s raised hand. “If I grant your wish, it may come with a burden you may not be willing to shoulder,” he was told. Wonshik shook his head.

“Tell me,” he pleaded. “I could not live with myself if I hadn’t done everything to help my sister.”

Hakyeon turned away and put the mug down on the nearest flat surface. There was a long pause while he appeared to consider the problem at hand. “Return,” Hakyeon said finally, “When your sister is well. You will be my assistant for a cycle of seasons, and when they are over, your contract will be fulfilled.”

Wonshik blinked. “You want me to return… here?”

“And stay for a full change of seasons,” Hakyeon confirmed. “Yes.” At the apprehensive expression on Wonshik’s face, he offered up a tiny smile. “No harm will come to you in the forest, and I can promise that your family will also be well.”

“And at the end… I can leave?” Wonshik asked tentatively, and Hakyeon nodded confirmation. Wonshik was sure that there was a catch somewhere in the mix (it was a magical bargain, after all), but he couldn’t see any other choice. He could very easily stay for a year in the forest if he knew that his sister was well.

He took a deep breath, as if to brace himself, and then told Hakyeon firmly, “Very well. I will accept the terms of this contract.”

There was a flash of joy in Hakyeon’s expression, so brief that Wonshik almost thought he imagined it. However, his “Thank you, Wonshik,” was serene, and followed by an equally calm: “Then, shall we get to work?”

 

 

 

**x.**

Shortly after, cradling three vials of a deep blue liquid, several crystals and a branch of apple blossom inlaid with a pattern of runes, Wonshik carefully stepped away from the tangleroot. Hakyeon lifted a hand in farewell, and Wonshik felt a gentle breeze ruffle his hair at the same time. He smiled, tentatively, at the witch, and then turned away.

The branches started to move in front of him, pointing him back towards home. With a final look back at Hakyeon, Wonshik followed the trail, eager to reach his sister as soon as he could.

Hakyeon watched Wonshik go until he was barely visible among the trees, an unreadable expression on his handsome features. Another breeze rippled through the root-filled hollow, bringing a swirl of apple blossoms with it. When the breeze had passed, another man stood next to Hakyeon on a scattering of blossoms, hands propped critically on his hips.

“Do you think he’s the one?” the newcomer said, doubt clear in his tone. Hakyeon, leaning against his tangled root home, said nothing in response. “He’s certainly polite, but that may not be enough.”

“Always so negative, Hongbin,” Hakyeon murmured, eyes fixed on a point in the distance, as if he could still see Wonshik going on his way. “Have a little hope.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> to be continued...
> 
> hopefully you're enjoying it so far!


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